My art is stagnant, my writing is stagnant. The only things I've stuck by are my 365 iPhone photo project and binge watching How I Met Your Mother on Netflix (and work). And I'm actually proud of that level of commitment.

My last blog post on this site was back in January.

It's funny how profoundly your priorities can shift when absolutely necessary. It's not funny how easily your deepest passions can be bumped down the list. I should always make room and time for these things, even and especially if they're not lucrative.

I have plenty of excuses though; some of them completely sound (and I'd like to think I'm not practicing some form of self-deception when I say that..) Excuses are never something I'm short on.

Work drains me, not only of energy and drive but creativity. My creativity is not limitless and it never has been.

I'm particular about the locations I want to shoot in. I don't have a wealth of old/retro/vintage-vibed or otherwise character filled locales available at my disposal.

I seem to have a harder time than your average old and creepy 'GWC' finding nude models. (What's up with that?) Or I find them and they want to be paid (don't we all?) or they're open to it but they're boyfriends/husbands/[insert any other prominent male figures with an insecurity and a claim or values that don't coincide with mine here] or I find them but they're worried about future job prospects (ugh, society in America; Can we lose the Puritan attitude? We're born naked, we shower naked, we fuck naked, we're all naked underneath our clothes – it's a shame that so many not only don't appreciate the beauty but runaway from it.)

I'm not a people person. I'm a person person. There's a reason why so many of my models are friends. It's because I'm comfortable with them. We've already gotten all the synthetic politeness and niceties out of the way. Sometimes all of that requires so much of my mental and emotional energy that by the time we're ready to take some photos, I'm drained and have nothing left to give. Sad but entirely true. I don't understand people. I can be even be terrified of them at times. It's why I prefer the editing to the shooting. I live in my head. I prefer it there no matter how lonely it can seem sometimes.

I'm still recovering and acclimating to a life that contrasts greatly from the one I was living one year ago, 2 years ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago. I left my husband of 14 years in November. My first time alone since I was 16, I very timidly moved to a much bigger city an hour away from everything and everyone I knew, I began a new job, I've made new friends, and in May another man moved in with me. Someone that's been there for me during some of the most difficult times of my life, someone I've known a certain way for the last 16 years and am now getting to know in vastly different ways. Someone I've loved in varying degrees in that duration without ever imagining that something like this could ever be possible. I took a big risk, putting my entire life the only way I knew it on the line and so far, the payout has been boundless. I recently told a friend over pancakes that the hardest part of this whole process for me has been letting go, accepting that I don't know what the right decisions are or even if such a thing exists, that avoiding regret and doubt are momentous task that at times, I think are impossible. The utter acceptance that some things are simply beyond our control does not come easy. And I miss my (ex)husband without question. My heart didn't dispose of the love I had for one person to make room for another. It just expanded. The whole thing. Sometimes it feels like it's going to erupt from my chest. Do you know how that makes me feel? Can you imagine it? Have you lived it? I feel more fortuitous than the wealthiest person on the planet.

But I'm rambling. I just want to shoot more. I wanna love more. I wanna create more and not just when I'm getting a paycheck to do so, I wanna feel more...I've spent too many years of my recent life in a detached daze.

Featured Posts

If someone had asked me 10 years ago if I would plan to take self-portraits should I ever get pregnant the answer would have likely been a resounding yes. To document such drastic changes in this vessel I inhabit and be able to add that to my body of work, which was then and still occupied by so many beautiful and various female bodies I've photographed over the years? Well, of course. Ten years later when prompted with that question by several someones, my answer wasn't so certain, maybe even doubtful.

When I became lost in the separation of child and mother, Of myself and the otherWhen I became lost you became foundYou climbed on to the backs of birds andsailed between land and space for milesYour back covered in feathers as black as the sky on a moonless nighteach freckle an understudy for the veiled stars

I met Melissa, this red-lipped, beautifully inked, raven-haired woman less than 6 months ago. One day, nearly two months ago she confessed her love to me for Banksy’s balloon girl. She said she was dying to recreate it in a photograph for someone special to her, but wanted a snowy-filled backdrop. She wanted that vibrant red heart balloon to pop off a clean white setting.

My husband and I recently participated in an Atlas Obscura event to get a peek inside the Wonder View Tower in Genoa, Colorado. I'd actually never heard of this place before a friend sent me a link for the AO tour event only days prior to the meet-up. Needless to say, I was hooked and immediately bought tickets.

"Looking down these dreary passages, the dull repose and quiet that prevails, is awful. Occasionally, there is a drowsy sound from some lone weaver’s shuttle, or shoemaker’s last, but it is stifled by the thick walls and heavy dungeon-door, and only serves to make the general stillness more profound. Over the head and face of every prisoner who comes into this melancholy house, a black hood is drawn; and in this dark shroud, an emblem of the curtain dropped between him and the living world."

“Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Familes are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.” ―Diane Setterfield

The trip was of course, wonderful, until the last 30 minutes of the drive home when Serenica's engine began stalling on us whenever we'd drop beneath a certain speed (hoping it's a minor fix!). Fortunately, after stalling out on several occasions and getting it restarted again, she died right inside our RV storage lot gate and wouldn't turn over.